He Who Must Not Be Named: A Life Study
by Dengjisan
Summary: Cover image by machi-neko (Deviantart), /art/Tom-Riddle-the-birthday-card-924. This is the biography that was never written. This is my attempt at telling the life of Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, or as he was at first, Tom Riddle, from the beginning to the bitter end. There will be childhood, rise to power, obsession with killing Harry Potter, death, rebirth and the downfall.
1. Prequel - Birth

**Prequel - Birth**

The woman was barely capable of keeping her own breath even and steady. But she pressed on, and gripped the nurses hand tight.

Poor girl. She looked like she lived on the streets, and was without question abandoned both by family and the father of the child. Eventually, the child was born, and the woman died saying, with her last breath that she wished he would look like his father.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, she had decided the boy should be named. Tom after the father, Marvolo after her father and Riddle if the father ever tried to find his boy.

Everyone involved in the birth process thought Marvolo to be a peculiar name, and they figured the girl had run away from a circus. She had been thin and cockeyed, whilst the boy was born looking purely healthy perfect. He was also one of those babies that didn't cry a lot, and had seemed to accept his fate of growing up as an orphan, from the very beginning.

The times was harsh, with the numerous strikes going about in the working classes, but at the orphanage where Tom Riddle was put, they always made sure the children had clothes, food and a bed to sleep in. They had it fairly good, despite the circumstances. Although, the matron enjoyed liquor she didn't spend any money on it unless the children's needs had been seen to. Mrs. Cole was a good matron. Tom Riddle grew and became older.


	2. Chapter 1 - Child's Play

**Chapter 1 - Child's Play**

- Tom? Tom Riddle? mrs. Cole shouted down the hallway.

- Yes, matron? he said when he had run to her, where she stood at the top of the stairs.

She offered him a beaming smile, and joyfully exclaimed:

- A man down there is looking for you.

Tom skipped down the stairs, just as if he was flying. Once he was there, he saw an elder version of himself, standing there in a suit with his arms wide open, welcoming him into a hug.

- Your father is bringing you home today, Toms father Tom explained, and Tom Jr. jumped into Tom Sr.'s arms and he was carried away in his big, warming embrace.

- I am NEVER going back to the orphanage! little Tom almost sang and his daddy laughed.

All was well. Tom was finally, after his first five meagre years, going home.

Tom Riddle Jr. opened his eyes and just looked at the white ceiling in his bed. Strange. His new room looked exactly like the one he had at the orphanage. Every crack, the spider net, the uneven apply of the color. Then, he realised he had dreamt and he was still at the orphanage. His eyes got watery, but he sat up straight and rubbed the tears away before they could wet his cheeks. So silly. Of course, his father would not come and pick him up. He was the son of a freak-show mother from the circus. He was a disgrace to any family he might have. Perhaps, he was a bastard too.

Tom got up, washed himself in the basin that stood at the bench in the dull room, and got dressed. He then walked with a firm pace to the bathrooms, and met Patric.

- Uh, oh, um, eh...

- Stop stuttering, Patric. You were going to say "good morning, Tom", I think?

- Yeah. Mornin' Tom.

- Good morning, to you too, Patric, the unusually well-spoken child said.

- ...Smarty McFartypants... Patric muttered.

Tom finished what he was supposed to do in the hygiene room, whilst Patric still had his pants down. Tom sneaked up behind him, and quickly pulled up the other ones pants, despite the fact the other boy was still peeing. Or, rather, because of it. Patric started to cry like an alarm bell, and Tom walked out quickly, but did not run. That would only make him look guilty. Tom walked down the stairs nonchalantly, and then into where breakfast was served. He sat down at the table where the red-headed girl with the long, single braid sat. She was the only other person here that had brains, like him. Among the children, that was. The adults all had more or less smarts.

- Good morning, Anna.

- Good morning, Tom, she replied with a bright voice.

Then, a scream-crying Patric rushed down the stairs, into the dining room (or food-court, as it wasn't really that luxurious) and got the attention of one of the cooking ladies. Patric brought her to the table, and pointed accusingly at Tom Riddle, whilst he in return gave him a questioning look.

- He... he... Patric sobbed, still having the pee-stained pants on.

- ...did nothing, Tom filled in, and looked innocently at the cooker.

Patric Smith, you must not accuse Tom Riddle for wetting yourself, the cook-lady lectured, and the urged Patric to go upstairs and put on a pair of clean trousers.

Anna held a straight, neutral face, until the cooker and Patric both were gone. They broke out in loud laughter.

- Quiet, children, mrs. Cole commanded when she glided into the room to join them in breakfast. She chose to sit by their table, although more children had come down now and most of them were sitting down.

Tom exchanged one last look of schadenfreude with Anna, and then they stood up in unison with the rest of the children as the matron did so, and kept their heads down with the prayer.

- Lord! mrs. Cole exclaimed and began the morning pray before they had their breakfast.

- We thank you for the food you have bestowed upon us, and we are grateful to eat what you have allowed us to sow. Now, we will sit down and rejoice in the mercy that food is.

And so, they all sat down again, and the same, grey porridge was served. At least mrs. Cole kept the prayer short.

After breakfast, they had an hour before class began to spend as they wished. Tom talked with Anna.

- I don't think I believe there is a God. Why did my father leave my mother if there was? he argued and looked sad about it.

- Tom... think again. If your father had NOT left your mother, there would always be a scandal about you wherever you went. I think your life is better now, and you should not be sad. I believe in God, and you should too, she reasoned with her bright voice to him, and gave him a hug.

- Hmm, he said simply and they stood for a few seconds, before Anna spontaneously shouted "Catch me if you can!" and ran off in the opposite direction. He shot after her, rushing and eventually nudged her on the shoulder. Then, he started to run and she chased him.

Once they got to morning class for the first year students, Anna went to the girls half of the class room and stood by her bench in attention, and Tom went to his and mimicked her.

- Now children, sit down, their elderly teacher Mr. Brightwood said when he entered the classroom. He taught them mathematics, and wasn't to hard on the formal parts. But they all respected him.

- Today is when we learn to count to a hundred, he started off and wrote the three numbers one, zero and zero after one another.

Tom, Anna and a few others listened with interest. Some just stared at the blackboard but was at a completely other place in their minds. Those were the people content with becoming beggars, thiefs or workers after the orphanage. Or, rather, they probably did not think about what would happen later right now. But Tom new he wanted to have a proper job and be someone, so he would put down a great effort with his studies. He knew Anna thought the same.

- What is it that I have written on the blackboard... Mr. Brightwood asked the class in general. Tom immediately shot his hand in the air, the answer was already given. Their teacher had already stated they would learn how to count to one hundred today, so 100 must mean just that.

- Mr. Riddle?

- It's "one hundred" in numbers, sir.

- Correct.

Their teacher immediately turned to the blackboard again an noted down "10 x 10 = 100".

- You all know how to count to ten, he continued and Tom noted that some of the other children started to count their fingers silently under the desk, should they be asked to count.

However, Mr. Brightwood didn't ask but continued to speak to them.

- If you count to ten, ten times, you will end up with one hundred. But, it is wrong to simply count to ten ten times, even if it is purely mathematically correct. That is why we have different words for every new tenfold of numbers that we count. How old are you, miss Cartwright?

- Uh... I'm eleven, sir.

- Exactly! Mr. Brightwood exclaimed as if Cartwright had said something brilliant.

But she was eleven and sat here with five-six-seven year old children. She was stupid. Tom frowned.

- Eleven comes right after ten. The second group of ten's are special, but once we come to twenty, it will be a lot easier... Now, after one, two three et cetera, right after ten, we have these ten numbers: Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

As he spoke, he scribbled the numbers on the blackboard. The patterns were easy enough. An "1" representing the ten, and then the numbers they had previously learnt in order. And so on.

Tom, Anna, and another generically named child, Peter, was highly active during the lesson whilst the others had a hard time getting what Mr. Brightwood so passionately taught them.

The bell eventually rang and that was the lesson for the day. They had no more, and the older children had their class in the afternoon. There was no way the little scraps put away per child could pay for proper schooling. But Tom intended to suck it all in... He would not end up on the streets.

The children were given potatoes and lettuce and pepper with water for lunch. Meat was a rare occasion at the orphanage, and often saved for christmas, easter or new years eve. The thirty first of december was by the way the day Tom had been born. Not that it mattered much to anyone in the world, anywhere.

After lunch, visitors were allowed to inspect the children and decide if they wanted to make an adoption. Today, there was only one man there to look at the children at the orphanage, scrutinise them like cattle. Tom wasn't sure orphan children were worth more than cattle. Maybe less.

- Ah, you my young man. What would you say about your mates here? the visitor suddenly questioned him.

- Well... Tom started, then paused for a bit.

He didn't dare to be honest with the man, but said that he couldn't really know as he had only met the children there and so couldn't compare.

- So little, and already answering like a politician! the man said and offered him a light smile.

The man went on to talk to some more children, and Tom was asked by one woman in the kitchen staff to grab a towel and dry the clean dish. He did as he was asked to. He did, after all, live at an orphanage and there was no point in arguing.

They day went by quickly, as it always did when there was work for them. Tom ended up exhausted in his bed and fell asleep with his clothes on, atop of the blanket. He woke up in the middle of the night, freezing, and finally got to change to the pyjamas and crawled down in between the chilly sheets, that slowly warmed up due to his body heat.

The next morning was as the ones from before (with no pranking on Patrick though), as was the lesson (except that they had English today), and they had the same lunch as yesterday. The man who was there yesterday also came back today. He appeared to be interested in Tom, amongst all the children. Today, he let him know his name.

- My dear boy! Let me tell you my name. I am Mr. Ebenheart, and I live a little bit outside London. Who are you?

- Tom Riddle, sir.

- A riddle indeed! Would that really be your last name?

- What my mother said I should be named.

- Oh! You have more names, perhaps...

- Why are you asking all these questions? Tom returned quickly.

He was starting to feel annoyed by the man.

- Ah, isn't that obvious, Tom? I stand here at Wool's Orphanage, and what would I be doing if not looking for a child to adopt, eh? I've taken an interest in you. And for your own sake, you better keep it up. I live with my wife, Mrs. Ebenheart, and I will bring her here tomorrow and then, we will decide.

- I see, Tom replied simply.

They continued to chat for a while, before the man left again. Tom felt tense as he was going to sleep, and he was awake for half the night before he finally was able to fall asleep.

It was as if he was walking in trance the next day.

- Don't be nervous, you will do great, Anna offered him.

Tom just shrugged his tiny shoulders.

The man arrived later that day, together with his wife, as promised. The woman had one look at him. He went out directly and offered his hand politely.

- Good day, Mrs. I am Tom, Tom Riddle.

- Riddle..?

The wife immediately turned to her husband. He heard her whispering in an upset tone, hearing her say something about "just like him", "what a scandal" and "my friends acquaintance's acquaintance was devastated". Toms heart sank as they walked out without another word.

Billy Stubbs came up from nowhere and slapped him in the back of his head.

- Ha, circus boy! Not this time!

- You! was all he managed to come up with at this moment, and tackled him down on the floor.

Stubbs was even smaller than him, and easily fell to the floor. One of the nurses came by right then.

- Oh, but Tom! What ARE you doing?

- Just child's play, miss, he bolted up to explain, once again himself.

- Oh, very well then...

She walked on, pleased with the explanation. Stubbs glared at him, and they continued to wrestle on the floor. Tom managed to best him, and walked up to his room to sit in blessed solitude for a while. He longed for the day he could get away from here.


	3. Chapter 2 - The Cave

**Chapter 2 - The Cave**

It was that time of the year again. In the end of the British summer, the orphanage arranged for them a trip to the coast, so that they would have the opportunity to "smell the ocean and listen to the seagulls". It had been pleasant enough, until Anna was adopted by a childless couple the year before. After that, Tom had become alone at the orphanage, and he didn't care to socialize with any of the other children since he thought them all to stupid to be worthy of his attention.

This was the ninth time he went on the trip together with the rest of the orphanage, and the year was 1936. He was nine now but would become ten in December. But he acted like he was far older.

After being sent away for the second time, to "go and have some fun with the other children dear Tom!", he figured lying with his belly flat down in the grass behind the small hill the adults sat on to guard the orphans playing down the slope would do the trick. It did seem to work. They were to occupied with their watch-duty, their sandwiches and the newspaper they had brought with them. One of them were reading an article out loud, and Tom was interested in hearing it.

- Ah, the Olympic Games begun yesterday, here's the article for the opening ceremony, the man guarding them said and started to read:

* * *

_**Berlin Olympic flames ablaze**_

_Germanys 'Führer' A. Hitler set of the XI Olympic Games yesterday evening, after a short speech and then the Olympic fire was lit by Fritz Schilgen._

_"The sportive, knightly battle awakens the best human characteristics. It doesn't separate, but unites the combatants in understanding and respect. It also helps to connect the countries in the spirit of peace. That's why the Olympic Flame should never die" the German leader proclaimed._

_In the games, 3963 athletes from the 49 countries will compete in athletics, polo, fencing and boxing, amongst many others._

_Our British heroes are Harold Whitlock (walking) and Freddie Wolff (relay), and we have 207 competitors in total for the Olympics this time._

_These are also the first Olympic Games to make use of the new technology of television, where both image and sound are broadcasted to those that are in possession of the apparatus._

* * *

- Sports will help us maintain peace? How can he say such a thing, whilst declaring war on the Jews? their female guardian commented.

She was a Jew herself; Tom was pretty sure about it.

- Well, it's one way to unite your people, to create or point out a common threat, their male guardian replied and shrugged his shoulders.

Tom pondered. Yes, it was obvious. What the Nazi regime had done might be questionable, but it worked. Point out a common "enemy", and most of the people would support your cause, not that of the "enemy". Even if you were the one wrong, scapegoats always were more favourable than to really solve the root to the problems themselves.

- Ooooh, Myer's have a sale on the autumn collection of hats! the female guardian exclaimed as she saw the announcement.

That meant Tom was done here, and he rolled over on his back, intending to sit up and walk down the slope to the rest of the children again, until it was time to leave. But instead, Amy Benson's face met his view.

- Tom is sneaking here again, Mr. and Mrs.!

- And what is she doing, if not sneaking too? he countered quickly and got to his feet.

- Oh, now Tom, Amy... You were both caught in the act. Do not pretend otherwise. And if I see any of you here again before we call on you to go, in about an hour, you will have to do the washing for everyone next weekend, understand? the male guardian threatened mildly.

- For whole London? Amy asked, sounding horrified.

- Yes, he means that, Tom said ironically, and dragged her along.

He knew exactly what they should "play" now.

- I want to show you something.

- Then Dennis must come along too! she demanded.

- Sure, Tom replied and she went to fetch Dennis Bishop.

Why not? The more, the merrier, as one could express it. Only thing was it would, without doubt, be none but him who was happier after what he had planned.

- Where are we going? asked Amy.

- You will see, he said and went further down the shore with both of them skipping after him. As they approached the cave, the roar of the ocean waves against the shore sounded stronger.

- Are we allowed to go here? Dennis asked, sounding worried.

- As long as we get back in time, we can, Tom replied with certainty, and they continued.

There was no way an adult could follow them now. They stepped on small stones, only suitable for small feet, that the ebb revealed, and they made their way into the cave below the cliffs, that Anna and him used to visit back when she still had been there.

The cave had an impressive underwater lake, and he knew there lived some sort of water snake there. At first, Dennis and Amy looked awed by the incredible place he had taken them to, but then...

Tom concentrated hard, and made both of them slip with his abilities, so that they sat down abruptly. Then, he thought of the face of a snake, and started to speak to the water snakes in the cave:

_- Come, and out of the water! I ask you kindly, everyone, to go over, beside and everywhere around the humans sitting. Leave the standing one alone._

And, look! A thirty or so water snakes came up from the black waters, hissed and spitted, as they writhed towards Dennis and Amy, and both of them looked first scared by his hissing speech the moment before, and then panicked once the snakes were upon them.

- Keep your mouths shut or the snakes will crawl down there! Tom warned them and both of them, that just a minute ago had looked ready to scream for help, now shut their mouths tight.

_- Don't hurt the humans, just writhe around a bit. Thank you, _Tom instructed the snakes courteously.

Tom closed his eyes, and directed his powers the way he wanted. It took a great effort, but eventually he managed to affect the brains of the other two children to have illusions. He gave them visions of them dying from the pox, starving to death, being burnt inside the orphanage... All the horrible ways one could die, he showed them, and the snakes continued to move over their bodies, up, down, up, down and all over.

After twenty minutes or so, he believed, he was done. The power he had was dwindling, it took great effort from him, and he had never done anything this advanced before. He told the snakes they could go back to their business, and they left the children alone, sliding into the water once again. Tom walked up to both the other children, getting close, and he said:

- Never tease me or treat me bad again. If you do, what you saw will happen... All of it! And also if you mention this to anyone... I will know. And it will happen then, too.

Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop nodded, with wide, horrified eyes.

- That's a good boy and girl, Tom commended them, and then he ushered them both out of there, and they went back up the slope again.

- So where have you three been? one of the other children asked them as they came back to the other orphans.

- Just playing, Tom replied with joy, although if one listened closely, you heard it was maliciously.

- Huh. I can't imagine why anyone would want to play with the weirdo circus boy, Billy Stubbs immediately commented, whilst looking sceptically at both Amy and Dennis.

But both Amy and Dennis remained silent, still looking shocked.

- Because they are smart, Tom concluded curtly.

- Is it smart to side with the outcast? I don't think so. George?

- I'd say it isn't, the slightly overweight boy George agreed with his friend Billy.

- And I say we should display what a weakling this circus boy is, Billy decided, and George nodded and immediately jumped at Tom.

Tom attempted to dodge, but failed. He wasn't foolish enough to try and fight George, the strongest orphan around Wool's, and perhaps amongst all the orphans in London.

But he was pressed down deep in the green grass, as George sat on him and beat his fists against his back, arms and legs. Everyone laughed... except two laughs, those of Dennis and Amy, were amiss. So while lying there and being beat by Stubbs thug, he still knew that his abilities had succeeded, and was highly pleased about it.

- Stop that George, stop at once! an angry female adult voice eventually shouted over the laughing and roaring children.

- But the circus boy had to be taught a lesson, George echoed Billy, who together with the other children had scattered once they saw the woman approach.

- Do not call Mr. Riddle that, it is mean. Now stand up, help Tom up and apologise.

George grunted, and held out a hand to help him up. Tom refused the help and stood up, aching all over. He cursed himself in his mind for not telling Amy and Dennis they had to protect him as well. Ah, what was done was done, and it had worked. That was what was important.

Toms powers had always been there, but he had become aware of them, and able to control them to some extent, first time about half a year ago. It was a bit of a shame Anna already had been adopted, he would have liked to tell her, show her... However, speaking to snakes was something he had known he was able to do for over a year, so that she did know he could do. It was when a serpent was about to attack her, when they had been outside the orphanage in the little yard. He had, out of not knowing anything else to do, begged the snake not to attack and that they wanted no harm. To his surprise, the snake replied that he was sorry to mistake them for a threat, and then it had left them alone.

Anna had told him that he had made some weird hissing noises, but he remembered speaking normally to the snake. Apparently, that ability was instinct. And also the exception, because he had noted everything else had to be trained.

It had been during the traditional Christmas dinner that the power he had had acted on its own and revealed itself. The Stubbs boy, his constant opponent, had made up a ridiculous story about "The Circus Boy" that he gayly relied to the children around him.

It had never been meant for anyone but him to know that his mother came from a circus freak show, but that pest had been eavesdropping outside Toms room the day he had been told about it. And ever since that day, Stubbs referred to Tom as "circus boy", "clown-child" etc.

What had happened, was that every single plate of Christmas food had hovered over to where Stubbs sat. It looked exactly as if the tiny boy, even smaller than Tom, had nicked all the plates from the other children. At that moment, one of the adults entered the room, and Stubbs got a very long scolding followed by a week of staying in his own room, even having a pot there and not being able to go to the bathroom nor classes. Since Christmas is about sharing, the punishment was inflated, Tom knew. And it had made him almost insanely joyous to view when Billy tried to explain himself. It had been impossible for the boy, of course.

In the evening, Tom had been eager to re-do what he had done earlier that day. He focused and wanted his pillow to float. It didn't work. He tried again. It did not work, again. Tom took a look around the room, and spotted the feather pencil. He focused again...

After many attempts, the feather jumped into the air, only to fall down immediately again. It couldn't have been the wind, his window was closed. Then, he had nodded to himself, and went to sleep. The next evening he had practiced again, and once he had his ninth birthday, he could levitate heavy things, like his own bed while sitting in it, by will.

And he had continued to practice on his abilities. Because, he had understood when he got older, orphans, even brilliant and studious ones, had a chance near none to succeed anywhere, or get a proper career. He still did good at the lessons, but found his abilities more and more important, realizing only his imagination would stop him at the things he did.

What wouldn't he be able to do? Provide food for the hungry, cure the sick, build homes for all... People would view him as the returning Jesus. And it would be glorious. Tom would finally be important to everyone, unlike now, when he was no-one for all who happened to see him.

It was so hard, on the other hand, to not become exhausted from it, and to direct what he wanted to do properly. One time, when he had attempted to iron a shirt with the ability, he had put it on fire, and had to rush into the bathroom, fill a bucket and drown the clothing. Every child had two sets of clothes, so he had to wear the same shirt three weeks before getting a new one. A bit disgusting of course, but as long as it took him a step closer to his vision, it was definitely worth it. What was one dirty shirt compared to what he could become?

-Mr. Riddle! their math teacher exclaimed with disappointment one day, while mildly hitting the long ruler against the desk that was his.

He had been avoiding answering questions today, to anyone looking at him it appeared he was day-dreaming, but he had attempted to figure out how he should perform his powers to create things from the air, if it even were possible.

- Yes, sir?

- Stop dreaming and answer the following: 252 multiplied by four?

- It's 1008... I just wanted to give someone else the chance today.

- Correct. But that is not the Tom I know, eh? Get yourself together... mr. Brightwood said, with a slightly worried look on his face, before continuing the lesson.

And in that very moment, Tom knew he had to focus properly again, at least when mr. Brightwood was teaching them. If he didn't, it would have consequences, if it hadn't already.


	4. Chapter 3 - Professor Dumbledore

**Chapter 3 - Professor Dumbledore**

It was the summer of 1938, and two years had passed since Tom had gone to the cave a third time (the first two occasions was with Anna and alone), accompanied by Dennis and Amy who had remained silent about the event and never treated him badly since then. He hadn't been there after that, not this summer or the year before. Just keeping himself to the other children and acting inconspicuously. He was done with the cave, at least for now.

Tom was sitting on his bed, admiring the yo-yo he had taken from Billy Stubbs room just recently. His constant harasser had been receiving gifts from an elder woman who had taken a liking to him, and considered an adoption. This included the yo-yo, and also a snow-white rabbit. But why should Stubbs be allowed to feel any joy? He hardly deserved that. So Tom did what he could to make the Stubbs boy miserable. First, he had commanded the rabbit to skip up the steep stairs, up all the way and onto the rafters. Tom had made sure none was present. Then, he made a rope float up, tie itself around the rafter, and then the rabbits neck. He then made the rabbit fall, and it was hanged.

Now, he had the yo-yo. Playing with it absent-mindedly, he pondered what next he should do against Stubbs. None of the other children bothered him quite like that boy. And he should practise against the most suitable targets, the least deserving of his presence...

Mrs. Cole had received a letter a while ago, concerning him. The sender was supposed to come to the orphanage sometime today. So Tom was allowed the visiting hours off from chores and schooling, so that he would be available when the visitor came.

The yo-yo eventually found it's way to the cardboard box. He kept it safe on the topmost shelf in his wardrobe. He had other things there, that he had decided were better if he took care of, instead of the unworthy former owners. He actually deserved to have everything in the world; the Royal Palace, their stables, the crown. It was fact. He should at least be the king of Britain. He was special, and really deserved to be worshipped. But a little child, as he was considered to be, would not be taken seriously. They would all call him Circus Boy, he was sure. So Tom would have to wait, until he was older.

Tom Marvolo Riddle gently walked down the stairs, and peeked over the reeling. He saw a tall, bearded man in a bright suit following Mrs. Cole into her office. That was surely the "Professor" who had written to the matron. He waited anxiously for them to be done and come up to him. It felt like hours, but he knew it was perhaps five minutes or so. Still, more than enough time to tell the "Professor" about how strange he was, that he was... special.

The door to the office opened, and Tom went straight back to the room where he had been told to sit and wait. He jumped onto his iron bedstead, picked up the closest of his schoolbooks and pretended to read it, stretching his legs out in front of him as to look more like a normal, spontaneous child.

There were two knocks on the door, the usual knock Mrs. Cole always did. Then, Cole followed by this visitor who titled himself "Professor" entered the small room and the matron announced the obvious fact that he had a visitor.

- This is Mr. Dumberton - sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you - well I'll let him do it.

Mrs. Cole then left them alone and closed the door behind her. Tom put down his book on the bed, and took a close look at the tall man. So this was his escort to the "special place", the asylum? Well, he wouldn't come along without a fight.

- How do you do, Tom? said Dumberton or Dunderbore whilst walking to him and offering his hand, although Tom suspected none of those were his names as Mrs. Cole had had rosy cheeks from consuming alcohol recently.

Why would anyone do that? It only dulled your senses and clouded your thoughts.

He realised he couldn't deny the handshake any longer, and accepted it. The "Professor" sat himself down on the only chair in the room, facing the bedside where Tom sat.

- I am Professor Dumbledore.

Ah, Dumbledore apparently. Tom couldn't hold his suspicions back any longer.

- "Professor"? Is that like "doctor"? What are you here for? Did _she _get you in to have a look at me? he almost spat out, feeling wary, and pointed at the door Mrs. Cole just had walked out of.

- No, no, Dumbledore replied smugly, and simply smiled at him.

It served only to make Tom even more suspicious, and also a bit angry.

- I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth! Tom commanded as he had done quite a few times before.

He made sure to stare the man in the eyes, as he had done before, so that Dumbledore would accept his command. But... nothing happened. The man just continued to smile at him.

- Who are you? Tom had to ask at last, being beaten by this mans mind.

- I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.

Obviously, this would be the bait. Cole must have told Dumbledore he was studious, and so the man offered him a school out of fantasy. He leapt from the bed and backed away from this "Professor", taking as great a distance from the man as the room allowed to. Why wasn't the man just telling him the plain truth, surely he must see this was not another stupid child. That this child, Tom Riddle, needed to hear what was really going on if he was to be convinced of anything or accepting something new. This was evidence that Dumbledore wasn't here for his sake.

- You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? "Professor", yes, of course - well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you! Tom defended himself angrily and prepared to flee through the door.

- I am not from the asylum, Dumbledore lied yet again, and continued: I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -

- I'd like to see them try, he commented partly to himself, partly as a warning to this "Professor" who continued to speak as if Tom had said nothing.

- Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities -

- I'm not mad! Tom intervened, still feeling the need to defend himself.

- I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.

When the man claimed he was offering him a place at a school of magic, he suddenly stiffened. This... this might be the answer. Magic. Magic was what he could do, and if there were schools for this, where he could refine his abilities... But it could also be yet another trick. To make him sit on the bed and thus be easy to grab and hold still, and be forced away to the mad-house.

- Magic? Tom asked, in a whisper.

- That's right.

- It's... it's magic, what I can do?

- What is it that you can do?

Regardless if this actually was a magician or if it was a doctor from the asylum, he had to tell someone. Tom had had none to talk to in years.

- All sorts. I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to, he explained, feeling the excitement rise in him.

Tom chose to sit down on the bed again, because he had started to tremble from thinking about how great he was, at all the wonders he could do...

- I knew I was different. I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something, he ended his explanation.

- Well, you are quite right. You are a wizard.

Wizard. Tom lifted his head at Dumbledore, and felt very... happy. Yes, this was it! He was a wizard. A master of magic, just like that fairy-tale about Merlin. He would become even greater.

- Are you a wizard too? Tom asked Dumbledore.

- Yes, I am.

- Prove it, Tom commanded.

He still suspected the man to be a doctor from the asylum. He needed solid proof he wasn't.

- If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts -

- Of course I am! Tom replied a bit annoyed, as he wanted to see the proof of the other mans wizardry at once.

- Then you will address me as "Professor" or "sir", Dumbledore explained firmly.

So that was how he wanted it, Dumbledore. Tom rearranged his voice to sound much more polite and said:

- I'm sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?

And Tom hadn't any chance to finish his sentence before Dumbledore produced a wand from his inside pocket, pointed it at his wardrobe and set fire to it, without a word.

Tom jumped to his feet out of pure surprise. It would have been easier to believe Professor Dumbledore was from the asylum, but he was indeed a wizard, then. Would he let the fire consume the whole orphanage and take them both out of there with magic? For a moment he hoped it would be so, but then he thought of the small things he had safe in there, all destroyed now.

Not being able to think of anything better, he started to howl in shock and rage, and then turned to attack Dumbledore physically. But as he approached the wizard, the roar from the fire stopped, and he looked at the wardrobe and the flames were gone. The wardrobe looked completely untouched.

- Where can I get one of them? Tom then asked the wizard, referring to the wand Dumbledore was holding.

- All in good time. I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe.

What a ridiculous thing to say. But then, Tom heard rattling from there.

- Open the door, Dumbledore told him.

Tom hesitated, but then did as he was asked to. His storage box was shaking like it had been possessed.

- Take it out, Dumbledore instructed further.

And so he did, feeling unnerved. How could Professor Dumbledore know about his little storage? No-one knew.

- Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?

- Yes, I suppose so, sir, he replied finally, without expression.

Tom was too surprised to defend himself against Professor Dumbledores unexpected questions and actions.

- Open it, the wizard said.

And so he did. Without looking at the things, he dropped them all on top of his bed.

- You will return them to their owners with your apologies, Dumbledore told him calmly, and put the wand back in his jacket.

- I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts.

- Yes sir, Tom said shortly, after a moment of pause.

He didn't dare to believe that Dumbledore lied about this. He was sure another wizard would be able to know such things, if he wanted to.

- At Hogwarts, Dumbledore went on, we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure - been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic - yes, there is a Ministry - will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that. in entering our world, they abide by our laws.

- Yes, sir, Tom said to confirm he had understood.

Tom then started to put the things back in the box, as having them on the bed wasn't practical.

- I haven't got any money, he explained, as it was the simple truth.

- That is easily remedied, Professor Dumbledore said and produced a leather money-pouch from his pocket.

- There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on second-hand, but -

- Where do you buy spellbooks? Tom interrupted, forgetting to be polite as he was excited about beginning his studies at Hogwarts, and about actually having money of his own for the first time in his life.

- In Diagon Alley. I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything -

- You're coming with me? Tom interrupted again, off-put by the idea.

- Certainly, if you -

- I don't need you, Tom declared, and continued: I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley? he questioned, but caught the look on Dumbledors face and realised he had been rude, and so added "sir".

- Very well, mr. Riddle, Dumbledore said and handed him an envelope, with a red seal that had an emblem, probably the school emblem, on it.

- To get to Diagon Alley...

As Dumbledore explained the way, he memorised the description, but there was not much to memorise as he knew the way from before up until that house corner that was supposed to have a quite unremarkable door, that he should go through to get to the bar that was between the Diagon Alley and the rest of London. The Professor told him to ask for the barman to help him get through the gateway, who, unsurprisingly, shared first names with him. Tom could not but help twitch as he heard this.

- You dislike the name "Tom"?

- There are a lot of Toms, he muttered in reply.

Himself, this wizard bar-man, his father...

- Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me, he asked Dumbledore before he could stop himself.

- I'm afraid I don't know.

- My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died... It must've been him. So - when I've got all my stuff - when do I come to Hogwarts?

- All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope. You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there, too.

Tom simply nodded at this, and once again Dumbledore wished to shake his hand. Tom knew better than to refuse. But there was one thing he wanted to know before the eccentric man left.

- I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips - they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?

Tom didn't feel like mentioning Anna.

- It is unusual, but not unheard of, the Professor replied.

Then, Dumbledore went to the door, after looking at him for a moment, and said goodbye.

So now, he knew. He was a wizard, and would get out of this place in September. Tom sat down on his bedside and read through the papers he had been given with a certain amount of excitement. Once that was done, he went to put the letter and train ticket in his box, and he took out the stolen goods at the same time. Better to get it done and over with, or he might not be allowed to study at Hogwarts.


End file.
